Kansas City Cowboy

“Damn right I didn’t.” His heart rate slowed and his breathing evened out as the utter self-assurance of his actions returned.

Once he had finished doctoring his wound, he returned to the bedroom to remove the last of his clothes. Using his undershirt as a barrier to keep from touching any buttons, he picked up the remote and turned off the blonde liar and the morning news.

Then he stepped into the shower to clean up and get dressed for work.

Chapter Three

“You let Janie close up the store all by herself that late at night?” Boone braced one hand on the cash register and leaned over the counter at the Robin’s Nest Florist Shop.

“I trust her with my keys. She’s my assistant manager … Trusted. She was my—”

“After eleven o’clock? In the dark? Knowing that bastard was running around out there?”

“We close at nine p.m. Why was she here that late?”

“You tell me.”

Boone couldn’t keep the raw tinge of frustration out of his voice, and knew that the clipped tone and deep pitch and bulk of his shoulders were probably more intimidation than the brown-haired woman hugging the design book to her chest could handle. But damn it all, that redheaded detective in the suit had run him out of the alley where Janie had been found, and then set up a brick wall of a K-9 cop and his German shepherd sidekick to keep him away from the crime scene.

Normally, he was a patient man, a methodical investigator. But this crime burned far too close to the heart. His family was his responsibility, and he’d already failed if his sister had suffered so and ended up dead. He needed answers to why this unthinkable act of violence had happened—and he needed them sooner rather than later if he was going to have any chance of assuaging the guilt and rage and grief thundering along with every blood cell in his veins. If KCPD wouldn’t let him comb through the crime scene with fresh eyes, then his next best avenue was to retrace Janie’s steps yesterday and start talking to the people she’d had contact with.

The jingle of a bell over the shop’s front door should have served as a warning to rethink this interview.

“We’re closed today.” The woman glanced at the intruder, maybe hoping for a polite escape, but the approaching customer only made him lower his voice and lean in closer.

“How long had Janie been working for you?”

The shopkeeper’s blue eyes darted back to his. “Almost a year.”

“And those were her regular hours? Did she close every night?”

“We traded off.” She tried to look away again.

“Was it a regular routine? The same nights each week? Something that anyone watching this place for any length of time could pick up on?”

The blue eyes widened in shock and focused on him again. “I didn’t realize I was putting her in danger like that. Yes, I suppose she’d had the same schedule for a couple of months—”

“Are you Robin?” Boone sniffed jasmine in the air a split-second before the softly articulate voice beside him spoke. The blonde in the brown trench coat rested a warning hand on his forearm, and the skin beneath his jacket danced at the unexpected touch.

Suspicion colored the shopkeeper’s voice. “Yes?”

The lady cop psychologist who smelled better than any fragrance in the floral shop extended her hand. “I’m Dr. Kate Kilpatrick, KCPD. I’m a psychologist with the department and a public liaison officer.”

The other woman set her design book on the counter and reached over to shake Kate’s hand. “I’m Robin Carter. I own this shop.”

Dr. Kate’s steady voice and calm presence were quickly defusing both the florist’s fears and Boone’s own unthinking rudeness. “My colleague, Sheriff Harrison, here brings up a good point. For women, especially, it’s smart to vary your schedule from time to time when it comes to personal safety. I know it can be hard to close the shop at different times, but don’t work late every night, park in different locations, have someone meet you here from time to time, and so on.” Perhaps sensing that he had a dubious control over his emotions again, she pulled her hand away and tucked it into the pocket of her coat. “People with predictable routines make themselves easier targets for a mugger or rapist to ambush.”

The shopkeeper’s skin paled beneath the blush on her cheeks. “I never thought of that. I’ll make sure my entire staff knows. Thank you.”

Boone’s emotions might be in check, but that didn’t mean he was finished here. “Ms. Carter and I were just having a little chat.”

“Say, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” Did Kate Kilpatrick just nudge her shoulder between him and the counter? Pushing him out of this conversation? Her move was subtle, putting a few more inches of protective distance between him and the woman he wanted to talk to. “Where were you last night? When was the last time you actually saw or talked to Miss Harrison? And was she alone?”

Fine. Questions he would have asked. As long as they got answered, he wouldn’t nudge back.

“I had to leave early in the afternoon for a doctor’s appointment.” Kate waited expectantly—a patient ploy that often made a witness nervous enough to keep on sharing information to fill the silence. The woman had interrogation skills, for sure. Robin Carter tucked a lock of coffee-colored hair behind her ear and continued. “I was at the Lyddon-Wells Clinic. I’ve been going through in vitro procedures, trying to get pregnant via a sperm donor. You know, single career woman—biological clock ticking and all that. Yesterday the doctor called me in for a pregnancy report. Janie knew it was important to me, so she volunteered to switch nights with me. I left at three-thirty, and except for any customers she might have had, she was alone.”

“Did you get the results you wanted?”

Robin hugged her arms in front of her and shook her head. “It didn’t take this time, either. He suggested I look at adopting.”

Boone didn’t pretend to know about how a woman might feel if her hopes for a pregnancy fell through. His ex had put off starting a family year after year until he finally realized that she’d put their marriage on hold, too.

But apparently, Kate understood. “I’m sorry about the baby. Do you know who Janie was seeing?”

Boone tipped his hat back on his head at the abrupt change of topic. Catching the witness off guard was another smart tactic. He’d learned all the same interrogation strategies, but Dr. Kate’s skills put his to shame today.

“No,” Robin answered. “But I think it was pretty serious.”

That was the first Boone had heard of a new man in his sister’s life. Screw keeping his distance. He leaned forward again, his chest butting into Kate’s shoulder. “Janie was in a serious relationship?”

The shopkeeper’s gaze shot back to his, and Boone let Dr. Kate shrug him into a less-threatening position again. “She stopped talking about her love life, er, who she was dating, these last few weeks. Wouldn’t go out for a drink with me after work anymore. Now that I think about it, she was secretive a lot lately. I’d interrupt a personal call and she’d quickly hang up. I invited her to bring a date to a staff party and she came alone. Left early, too.”

“You don’t have a name for this mysterious boyfriend?” Boone asked.

“I don’t remember her ever mentioning it. And if he came to the shop, I never knew about it. She didn’t treat anyone more special than her usual friendly self.” Robin pulled a tissue from the apron she wore and dabbed at the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’m going to miss that smile. Sorry I can’t be more help.”

Kate reached across the counter to squeeze the other woman’s hand. “You’ve been a big help already, Robin.”

Kate might be signing off on this interview, but Boone needed more. “Do you have any idea where she would have met this guy?”

For the first time during the entire conversation, Kate tipped her face up to his and looked him straight in the eye. Reprimand noted. And ignored. He opened his mouth to follow up, but Kate beat him to the punch. “I understand what you mean about devoting all that time to your career.” He’d bet there was a kinder, gentler expression on her face when she turned back to the shopkeeper. “Other things get … overlooked.” And then she was stepping back, nodding toward the front door. “Shall we?”

Boone ignored the unspoken command to exit stage right and pulled out his wallet to hand Robin Carter a business card. “If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to call me … or KCPD,” he added before Kate could correct him. He paused for a moment to tip the brim of his hat to Robin. “I’m sorry about earlier, ma’am. I’m a little upset today. But I appreciate your cooperation.”

The woman sniffed back her tears and summoned a smile, appeased by the apology he’d owed her. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Sheriff. Janie was a sunny, vivacious spirit—and so talented. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“You two were good friends?” Robin nodded. “Then I’m sorry for your loss, too. I’ll send word about the arrangements for her services when I know them.”

“I’d like that. Thank you.”

Finally content to leave—for now—Boone turned to the door and gestured for Kate to precede him.

He’d barely closed the door behind them when Kate stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. She crossed her arms and tilted her face to challenge him. “You’re going to scare away all our potential witnesses if you dive down their throats like that.”

“I’m sorry if I scared the lady, but she had answers we needed.”

“No, she had answers I needed. That the task force needed.”